He stood, not in his usual straight-backed manner, but slouched against the railing in indolent repose. Watching. Like a leopard lazing in his perch.
The man she knew as Winston Lane had been lithe of form, his wheat blond hair swept back and neat, his mustache always trimmed and a point of pride. She remembered the day he started to grow one. It had been the same day he’d joined the CID. Most Yardmen wore mustaches, and thus, he announced, so would he. And while she’d missed the smooth feel of his upper lip, it had looked quite distinguished so she did not complain. But that elegant man was gone.
The man who faced her now had much broader shoulders and arms swelling with muscles evident even beneath his loose-fitting sack coat. His once short and orderly hair was a shaggy mess, hanging about his face, which she surmised had been in an attempt to hide his maiming. It hurt her to look at those four parallel scars that ran down the left side of his face. Archer had done a neat job of stitching, but the scars were still vivid red and taking up the whole of his cheek, the cruelest one tugging the corner of his upper lip into a permanent sneer. His beloved mustache was gone, the scar obviously making wearing one difficult now. Poppy wondered if he mourned the loss.
The wind shifted, and she caught his scent, a mix of clean wool, fragrant smoke, and him. For a moment, she was dizzy with it. His scent hadn’t changed. She hadn’t realized how very much she had missed it.
Their gazes clashed, and it was like a physical blow. She knew this man. She knew the texture of his skin, where it was silky smooth just above his collarbone and where it was rough along the length of his thighs. She knew the cadence of his breath, deep and even in sleep, and how it rasped in passion. She knew that a little furrow would form between his brows and he would bite his bottom lip just before he came. And he knew her. For a moment, the ghost of his voice was in her ear, whispering words designed to take her to the brink, “Spread your legs wider, sweeting. Show me how much you can take. Come for me.”
It took a supreme act of will not to blush beet red.
Winston settled more comfortably against the railing as she came close.
“Poppy.” His voice was a shadow of itself, smoky and faint. Her eyes went to the thick scar at his throat, just visible above his collar. Archer hadn’t mentioned the possibility of permanent damage there, but the wound clearly affected him.
“Win.”
The corners of his eyes tightened. She’d used her private nickname for him. A name that had never failed to soften him in the past. She clutched the handle of her parasol harder. Ye gods but this was awkward. The well-thought-out explanations she’d planned flew from her head, and she blurted out the first inane thing that came to mind. “You’re here.”
Blast.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and she might have thought him amused were it not for the hardness of his expression and the bunching of his shoulders. “Astute as always, my dear.”
Heat washed over her cheeks, and the air about her turned a shade colder. The bloody obnoxious… At his side, Jack Talent made a coughing sound and wisely looked down at his feet.
Poppy decided to take the high road as it were. “May I introduce my assistant, Miss Mary Chase.”
At that, Talent’s head lifted, and his mouth flattened. Winston, however, sketched a graceful bow. “We’ve met before at Ranulf House. Miss Chase, a pleasure as always.”
Poppy had expected him to say more, but her errant husband was uncharacteristically abrupt. Pressing her lips together, she gave a nod to Talent. “Good to see you, Mr. Talent. I trust you are well.”
“As well as can be expected, madam.” His dark green eyes cut to Winston. “Given my pleasant travel companion.” He ignored Winston’s raised brow and smiled unexpectedly. The action transformed his usually dour face and lit him from within. “You make a welcome addition, Mrs. Lane. Unfortunately, you must excuse me as I have trunks to unpack.” The smile died. “Miss Chase.”
“Mr. Talent.” Mary all but gave the man the cut direct as she abruptly turned and touched Poppy’s elbow. “Madam, I shall go see us settled as well.”
Poppy waited until Mr. Talent was gone then leaned in